White Hot Kiss

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  someone—anyone. Before he could recover, I brought my knee up and slammed it into his stomach.

  Breaking loose, I whirled around, but he got a handful of my hair, yanking my head back. Petr went for the phone, twisting my wrist until I lost my grip on it. He threw it into the nearby bushes.

  Terror rushed through me, as did pure rage. I swung at him, digging my nails into his cheek. Petr yelped and let go. I kicked out, clipping his leg.

  Petr shot around me, slamming his fist into me and knocking me to the ground. The fresh burst of pain stunned me, but I crawled forward. He caught my shoulder, flipping me onto my back.

  To the left of us, the bushes suddenly rattled wildly, drawing Petr’s attention. He reared up, just as I twisted and something—something shiny-black with big fangs—shot from the foliage. Bambi? I didn’t even question why the snake was here, but I prayed she ate Petr.

  Bambi darted across the clearing, mouth open and fangs gleaming. Growling deep in his throat, Petr whipped around, catching the snake just below its head. She hissed and snapped out, but with a ripe curse, he threw the snake against a nearby tree. Bambi hit the trunk with a nasty, sickening thud and fell to the ground in a messy, unmoving lump.

  Real terror spread its way through me like a virus. I swung, aiming for any part of him I could make contact with.

  “You stupid little demon bitch,” Petr spat, catching my arm. “A familiar—you have a familiar hanging around you? Even Abbot will thank me for this.”

  A scream caught in my throat as I kneed him in the stomach. Petr grunted and then his fist snaked out, crashing into my face. The ringing in my ears blocked out all sound. I sucked in air and blood, thrashing under his weight. I was reduced to struggling like a wild animal.

  “Stop. Just stop,” Petr said, pushing my head back. “This will go so much easier if you just don’t fight.”

  A different kind of instinct struggled to rise inside me—not Warden, but a part of me that was more powerful than the will to survive. Petr thought he had me defenseless under him? Let him believe that. All I needed was for him to lower his head just another inch or two. The demon inside me roared its approval.

  “That’s it.” The scratches on his cheek stretched, seeping blood. “This has to be done. The entire world will be better off if you’re dead.”

  Confusion and the spicy cologne he wore suffocated me. My skin felt like it was stretched to the limit. The demon inside me clawed to get out.

  “You’re going to beg.” His gaze flicked up, pale eyes heated. “They all do. Beg right before we send them back to Hell.” His hand moved lower, bruising. “No pride. And that’s the way it should be. Look at you now.”

  Tears of frustration and fear ran down my cheeks, mixing with dirt and blood, but they had no effect on Petr. I couldn’t do this—couldn’t just lie here and wait. I reared up, clutching the short hairs on the back of his head and forcing his mouth toward mine.

  Petr crammed his hand over my mouth, forcing my head back down. “Oh, no, you aren’t going to do that.”

  Full-blown panic set it. His hand crushed my split lip, and I couldn’t breathe. I beat my fists against his arms, his chest. The thin material of my camisole ripped, and then his fingers were wrapping around my throat. I felt every pebble digging into my back, and out of the mass of jumbled thoughts, I remembered what Roth had said. People with the purest souls are capable of the greatest evils. No one is perfect, no matter what they are or what side they fight for.

  Truer words had never been spoken.

  Desperation clouded my senses. I dug my nails into his hand, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t breathe. My limbs felt heavy as I choked on my own tears. His fingers bruised as he tried to pry my legs apart, but I squeezed them tighter and tighter. I stared up at the darkening sky, the moon a pale, distant shadow.

  Defiance burst through me. I craned my neck, his hands slipped and I bit down as hard as I could. His skin popped between my teeth and warm blood gushed. Petr jerked back, howling. The blow he landed cracked my head on the hard ground. Starbursts clouded my vision.

  Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

  I pried my eyes open and they stung unnaturally. Something inside of me snapped. Maybe it was the demon finally. It didn’t matter what it was. I reared off the ground, clenching the sides of his face. My movement stunned him, giving me enough time to latch my mouth on to his. I inhaled deeply, feeling the first wisp of his soul.

  I breathed in again, and he went wild, beating my arms, my chest. I held on, dragging his soul bit by bit inside me as he moaned. He didn’t taste like I thought a pure soul would. It felt thick, heavy with blood and hatred.

  Petr was shifting, his fingers clawing at my neck, wrapping around the silver chain. The last of his soul struggled against me, but I coaxed it out and into me. Petr jerked away, and the moment his mouth left mine, a ragged sob escaped me.

  Back bowed and arms thrown out to the side, Petr’s skin turned sallow. Veins bulged along his throat and then darkened, like ink had been injected into his blood. Darkened vessels traveled up his cheeks and down the bare skin of his arm. He shuddered once, and then he rose onto the tips of his toes as if he was nothing more than a puppet.

  Feeling too warm and more than a little off balance, I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate even though dull instincts were flaring to life. Get away. Get away. Whatever was happening with Petr wasn’t normal, but the soul—ah—tasting a soul was like taking a hit of the purest drug out there. Warmth buzzed through my veins, dulling the numerous aches and erasing the fear. I’d tasted a soul before, but never taken one completely.

  Humans would waste away within minutes of losing their souls, turning into wraiths. Apparently Wardens did something completely different.

  I willed my muscles to work, managing to sit up. Light-headed, I struggled to focus through the rushing tide of heat. Muscles relaxed and loosened. The world above spun, but Petr...

  His body contorted and he threw his head back, mouth gaping open in a silent howl. Fangs punched out between his pale gray lips. Clothing stretched and tore. Petr was shifting. Maybe I hadn’t taken his soul. Maybe I was hallucinating.

  Bones popped and skin ripped. Petr’s wings unfurled from his back, spanning six feet on either side of him. His body jerked into the final stages of transformation. He stilled for a moment and then his chin snapped down.

  Petr’s eyes were bloodred.

  And that...well, that wasn’t right.

  My palms slid across the soil and I ended up flat on my back. A tiny giggle escaped my slack lips. Blood pounding, I tried to sit up again. Deep down I knew I should’ve been afraid, but nothing could hurt me now. I could kiss the sky if I wanted to.

  The ground trembled as Petr stepped forward, a low growl rumbling up through him. He extended a heavily muscled arm, and his hands formed deadly claws. Lips pulled back in a snarl, he dropped into a crouch.

  Something bigger and faster pulled away from the shadows, heading straight for us. In my mixed-up head, I wondered if it was another Warden coming to help Petr finish what he’d started.

  Petr straightened, whipping toward the fast-approaching shadow, but he was too late.

  The blur solidified in an instant. The facial features were familiar but sharper, as if the skin had thinned over bone. Pupils stretched vertically and irises glowed yellow.

  Petr’s body spasmed and he let out a hoarse cry. Hot, wet warmth sprayed into the air, dotting my jeans and my stomach. A metallic scent flooded the air.

  “That’s for being a bastard,” Roth said, and then he yanked his arm back. A long spiny structure dangled from his hand—a spine. “And that is for throwing Bambi.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Too stunned and out of it to say much of anything, I watched Roth drop the spine on the ground. His lip was curled in disgust as he stepped over Petr’s body and knelt before me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, and when I didn’t answer, he rea
ched forward with a bloodied hand. His gaze dropped to it and he muttered something under his breath. Pulling his hand back, he wiped it on his jeans. “Layla?”

  His face didn’t seem so sharp now, but those eyes still glowed yellow. The high had peaked and was starting to drift away like an idle breeze. Sharp bursts of pain were popping up all over my body. I opened my mouth, but only air came out.

  My gaze drifted toward the body.

  “Don’t look,” he said, placing a hand on my leg.

  I jerked away, my breathing starting to pick up again.

  “Okay,” Roth said, glancing over to where Bambi was stirring to life. He turned his gaze back to me, whistling low, and the snake rose up and traveled halfway to Roth before turning into a dark cloud. The smoke traveled up his arm and settled against his skin, the tail of the tattoo wrapping around his elbow. Roth kept his eyes fixed on me. “Layla, say something.”

  I blinked slowly. “Thank...you.”

  A muscle popped in his jaw as his gaze held mine a moment longer, and then he turned back to the body. “I need to take care of this and then I’ll...I’ll take care of you.”

  Roth picked up the body and the other parts, quickly disappearing into the thick brush of the woods. Rolling onto my side, I managed to pull myself up so I leaned against the base of a tree. Disjointed thoughts trailed endlessly through my head.

  I’d taken a soul—a pure soul.

  My stomach cramped. The soft glow that had surrounded me disappeared and I shivered uncontrollably.

  I’d taken a soul.

  Roth materialized out of nowhere, the front of his jeans damp and his hands clear of blood. He must’ve washed them in the nearby stream. Without saying a word, he approached me slowly, as if worried about frightening me. He slipped an arm under my knees and lifted me, and it occurred to me that I should probably ask where he was taking me. But I just wanted to be away from here, as far away as possible.

  His body changed against mine, hardened much like a Warden’s would. Heat radiated from his skin and there was the familiar sound of skin separating. Wings so dark they almost blended into the night spread out from his body, arcing gracefully. At the tips were horns, curved and sharpened into fine points. The wings had to be at least ten feet wide. The biggest I’d ever seen.

  I pulled back a little and sucked in a sharp breath. His skin was the color of polished onyx, more skeletal than skin. Unlike the Wardens, there were no cranial horns. Just smooth black skin. A cold stab of fear pierced my heart. Seeing Roth in his true form was a sharp reminder of what he really was—a demon.

  But I was part demon and Petr...Petr had been a Warden, and he’d wanted to kill me. Things were no longer so black-and-white to me.

  I lifted my gaze to Roth’s face.

  Golden eyes met mine, and it was as if he knew what I was thinking. “Funny how much demons and Wardens look alike, huh?”

  I didn’t respond, but one side of his lips tipped up in total Roth fashion. “Close your eyes, Layla. This is going to be fast.”

  He didn’t give me much of a chance to protest. With his free hand, he tucked my head into the space between his throat and shoulder. He dropped into a crouch and a powerful tremble rocked his body a moment before he launched into the sky.

  Pulse pounding, I squeezed my eyes shut and burrowed in. Only Zayne had ever done this—taken me into the sky. It required a lot of trust on my end. If Roth decided to drop me, it wasn’t like I was going to sprout wings and save myself from going splat. And even though I doubted that was part of his master plan, my anxiety level skyrocketed and pushed my already-thumping heart into overdrive.

  Roth tightened his hold and he murmured something that was lost in the wind. The flight to wherever Roth was taking me was a blur, but it did kill the remaining buzz. When he finally landed, my entire body thrummed with pain. I was shaking so badly I didn’t even realize that he’d shifted back into human form until he leaned back and I could see his face.

  “You hanging in there?” he asked. The pupils of his honey-colored eyes were still stretched vertically.

  I nodded or at least I think I did. Over his shoulder, I could see nothing but apartment buildings, lit up like a chessboard. “Where are...we?” I winced as pain shot through my jaw.

  “My place.”

  His place? Roth didn’t elaborate as he started forward. It took me a few seconds to realize that we were in a narrow alley behind a rather large building. The door before us swung open, and a man appeared in the darkness.

  He looked like he was in his mid-twenties. Icy blond hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, but the finely arched brows were dark. His eyes were like Roth’s, the color of rich honey. He was most definitely a demon, but he held the door open. “This is a surprise,” he said.

  “Shut up, Cayman.”

  Cayman’s steps matched Roth’s. We were in a stairwell, heading up. “Should I be concerned? Because if that’s who I think it is and she looks like that because of something you did, I really need to know before I have a fleet of Wardens tearing up my building.”

  I wondered how bad I looked and how this guy knew who I was. “He didn’t do this.”

  “That’s somewhat of a relief, but...”

  Roth rounded a level. “The Wardens are of no concern at this moment.”

  The other demon arched a brow. “That would be your opinion—and an invalid one. The Wardens—”

  “Didn’t I already tell you to shut up?”

  Cayman grinned as he slid around us, opening the door to the fifteenth floor. “And since when do I ever listen to you?”

  Roth grunted. “Good point.”

  He stepped aside, hand on the door. “Can I get you guys anything?”

  “Not at the moment.” But Roth stopped and faced the other demon. “I’ll be down to see you later. Don’t worry. I’ll fill you in.”

  Humor glimmered in the demon’s eyes. “Great. I’m in need of some good gossip.”

  And then he was gone, like he’d poofed out of the hallway. Roth started down the hallway. “I...I can...walk.”

  “I’d prefer that you didn’t right now, and besides, we’re here.”

  Here was a door painted black. It opened on its own, and as soon as we stepped through, an overhead light flicked on and bright light spilled across the room. I blinked until my eyes adjusted.

  His home away from Hell was pretty nice. A large loft fit for a king, to be exact. The walls were painted white, and they were bare with the exception of a few macabre, abstract paintings. There was a bed in the middle, covered with black and red sheets. A TV was mounted on the wall, and below it were several stacks of DVDs and books. There was a piano in the corner beside a closed door.

  Any other time I would’ve made a beeline for the books and DVDs, but when he gently sat me down on the bed, I stayed there, feeling numb and empty.

  “Why did he do this?” Roth’s voice was eerily calm.

  “Is...is Bambi okay?” I asked instead.

  Roth frowned. “Bambi is fine.”

  It was strange to feel relief over a demon snake. “She helped me twice.” I lifted my gaze. “You helped me twice.”

  “Like I said, Bambi seems to like you. She keeps an eye on you...”

  When I can’t seemed like the unspoken part of the sentence. I lowered my gaze, so very confused about freaking everything. Were all demons really evil? How could they be when one rescued me from the one thing meant to protect everyone?

  “Answer my question, Layla.”

  I hesitated. Because...because I wasn’t sure I could say why Petr did what he did. I wasn’t ready to speak those words, because it made everything painfully real. And at that moment, I didn’t think I could handle them.

  He stared at me a moment and then stalked over to a low sitting chair. He pulled a thick blanket off the back. “Here.” He carefully dropped it over my shoulders. “You look cold.”

  I slowly let go of my torn clothes, sinking my fingers into the r
ich softness, pulling it around me. I didn’t know what kind of material it was. Maybe cashmere? It was black, though, which fit him.

  Roth lingered again, not saying anything, and then he spun around. I watched the intricate play of his muscles as he reached down and tugged his dirty shirt up over his head. Muscles in his arms flexed as he tossed it to the floor. There was a large tattoo along the side of his body: four lines of eloquently written scripture in a language I’d never seen before.

  Even in the state of mind I was in, I couldn’t help but appreciate all that Roth had going on. When he turned to grab a shirt out of a pile of neatly stacked clothes, I got an eyeful of his front. He was all muscle, chiseled and lean. Graceful. His pants hung low, and it looked as if someone had pressed their fingers into the skin next to his hips, leaving behind indentations. The dips and planes of his stomach looked unreal.